Sample #3

A light drizzle shrouded the night sky with a thin, white mist.
The masses getting out from work were undeterred, slowly trudging their way back home.
Home. The word danced at the tip of my tongue, then melted away, leaving a sour aftertaste.
Three steps, and a familiar door greeted me. A door I’ve seen more of than my place’s.
I pushed it aside. A warm draft greeting me, leaving only memories of the cold, wet night.
The bartender glanced over at me, nodding in greeting. I knew him well, that his wife left him for a businessman, that his children didn’t even recognize him any more, that this bar was all that he had left.
I scan the bar. There were familiar faces all around. I look over to my usual spot. There was a difference, a switch from my daily life.
Looking back, perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was fate. She snapped me out of my cycle, by sitting there that day.
She was just a new face. New faces were unusual, but they never stayed long.
I walked up to take a seat next to her. Her tawny eyes stood out from her almost pale skin. Her hair, a dark shade of brown, complemented her eyes almost perfectly.
An empty glass sat on the counter in front of her. She stared into nothingness, ignoring all that was around her.
I tilted my head slightly. A thin, black cashmere sweater veiled the outline of her chest. The jeans stretch taut against her almost athletic legs.
She looked at me, as if noticing my stare.
The bartender set down a glass in front of me. Bourbon, perfect for the weather. I drained it in one.
I felt her stare on me, observing me as I did her. I returned her the favor, glancing back at her.
We looked at each other for a bit. She broke the silence. “Hello.”
Her voice reminded me she wasn’t a specimen; she was human too.
“Hello,” I replied.
She spun her body around, facing me. Her left sleeve was knotted at her shoulder.
She smiled at me, a slight smile, barely noticeable. “So, what do you think?”
A flurry of thoughts circled through my mind.
What does she mean? What could I think?
“How did that happen?” I masked my uncertainty with a question.
She looked at me, as though she understood what I tried to do.
“A woman has her secrets.” She smiled, another ghost of one.
I gestured for the bartender. He raised an eyebrow at me. I nodded at her. He refilled her glass along with mine.
She tilted her head at me, almost playfully. “What are you planning, hmm?” She winked at me.
“Can’t a man buy a beautiful woman a drink?” I down mine almost instantaneously.
She studied me, searching for an ulterior motive. I ignored her stare.
Satisfied, she turned back to the bar, her hand resting on the counter next to her glass.
“I lost my arm in an accident.” She returned to her wistful look.
“For a woman who has secrets, you don’t keep them too well.” My casual comment earned a grin from her.
“Must be the alcohol talking. I’ve had quite a few already.”
She noticed my concern.
“It takes a lot more than beer to get me drunk.” She waved me off.
She drained the glass of bourbon, as if to prove a point.
“Although, I’ve been waiting for someone like you to come along.” She stared straight into my eyes. Her tawny eyes had specks of gold in them. The intensity of her gaze forced me to turn away.
“Really? Why’s that?” The bartender replaced my shot glass with a glass filled with water and a lemon slice. Two shots of bourbon to a chaser of water, as usual. I took a sip.
“People react differently when they realize you’re missing an arm.” Her answer was different from the one I was expecting.
“You should show them more of your right side, then. I have a wonderful view of you right now.” I caught her off-guard with my brazen compliment. I feigned nonchalance, but I was swearing at myself inside.
She glanced away quickly. The tips of her ears, peeking out from beneath her hair, betrayed her blush.
She shook her head and turned back to me, a hint of red still lingering on her cheeks. “Thank you. I will keep that in mind.” I returned to my drink.
Silence took hold of our conversation.
She kept her face expressionless, but I caught her studying me out of the corner of my eye.
“So, what happened?” I echoed my earlier question.
She tensed up slightly. She tapped on the counter nervously.
Another length of silence. I paused for a moment, realizing I didn’t know her name.
I open my mouth to ask, then shut it abruptly. Knowing her name would make this exchange of a story intimate. Intimacy with a stranger is deterring. Not knowing her name served both of our purposes well.
Her fingertips tapped out a rhythm, a rhythm I recognized almost instantly.
“I was a pianist.” She voiced my thoughts.
“Mariage D’Amour, right?” Her fingers were interrupted by my comment, fumbling awkwardly.
“It’s a bad habit. Piano pieces don’t sound right without the chords.”
“But now..” She swings her left sleeve weakly.
“Would you like another drink?” I gestured the bartender to pour her another.
“You’re paying, right?” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“Only if I get to hear the rest of your story.” I finish my glass of water.
Her expression turned dark for a moment, but assumed a mask of defeat. A faint smile shadowed her face. “You know, you really are different. The blatant compliments, the lack of respect for privacy, the coercion…"She trailed off.
"I blame the alcohol.” The fingers on my left hand tapped out the chords to her previous melody.
She sighed softly, exasperated, perhaps. “I hope my story was worth your effort.”